


When Everyone's Drinking

by Pigzxo



Series: Run Away With Me [1]
Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Funny, M/M, they're in Canada b/c it's not underage drinking then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin gets drunk at an Exy summit and decides to talk to the only person he's pretty sure won't ignore him - Jeremy Knox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Everyone's Drinking

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Run Away With Me" by Carly Rae Jepsen (kind of)

Being in Canada meant getting into bars legally. Sure, Coach Wymack had told them not to go to the bar at all, and Kevin wasn’t even sure why the fuck they were in Canada, (The country only had one university Exy team that placed in their league, but somehow they got to host the summit.) but none of that was going to convince Andrew not to drag the crowd into the hotel bar.

            Kevin would have refused. He would have insisted that they stay back, go down to the court and practice until it was too late to get a bus back to the hotel. There was no way he was going to let them spend the next day hungover at practice, barely listening to him, barely listening to the coach. He would have fought them all until it was too late to go down to the bar. (It wasn’t even Andrew’s kind of bar. It was set up for bored business people who wanted to get a scotch before their late night meetings.)

            But the USC Trojans had made sure to tell everyone that _they_ were going to be at the bar and everyone was welcome to tag along.

            So maybe he didn’t fight as hard as he should have.

            And maybe it was worthless.

            The bar was crowded with boring business people in their boring suits and Kevin stood at the end of the bar, nursing a rum and coke, utterly bored. And restless. Andrew and Neil sat nearby, engaged in some sort of argument (or conversation, he could never tell with those two) that didn’t include him. Aaron had found a dark corner to drag his girlfriend into and was now completely invisible in the black and white crowd. And Nicky was half-wasted, slinging his arms around random guys, asking them if they swung his way. Kevin was doing his best to act like he didn’t know him.

            Kevin tapped his foot against the tile floor and watched Jeremy, captain of the Trojans, through the crowd. He was laughing with a couple of his teammates, easily bringing in people from other teams to his conversation. He listened to people’s words with sparkles in his eyes, a bright smile on his face. And his answers, even in the din of the bar, the raucous noise of the music, were measured, controlled, cultivated.

            Nicky bumped into Kevin’s shoulder, nearly spilled his drink, and said, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

            “Fuck off,” Kevin said.

            “No, seriously,” Nicky said. “If you get a picture, he might sign it. And then you can jack off to—” Nicky cut himself off at Kevin’s glare and held up his hands in mock surrender. Then he winked, took a step out of Kevin’s reach, and said, “Hiding in the closet will only get you so far! Ask Neil.”

            Neil looked up at the mention of his name and shot Kevin a confused look, but his attention was back on Andrew a second later, the other boy’s fingers twisted through his hair.

            Kevin downed the last of his drink, knocked his fist on the bar for another. Part of him knew he shouldn’t have any more –they had practice at five in the morning tomorrow– but he wasn’t going to convince either Andrew or Neil to come down to the court with him and he didn’t feel like going down there alone.

            It took a drink and a half more for him to have the wonderful realization that he could ask Jeremy to go down to the court with him. Jeremy, with his 100 gigawatt smile and easy conversational glow, would do anything to make another person happy. So Kevin pushed off from the bar and stumbled through the crowd to break into Jeremy’s circle. (He ignored Andrew calling after him, reminding him not to get himself killed.)

            A couple people grumbled as Kevin pushed past them, but Jeremy only offered him a warm smile. A strand of blonde hair, damp with sweat from the heat of the room, hung in one of his perfect blue eyes. “Hey, Kevin,” Jeremy said. He reached out a hand to pat Kevin on the shoulder, but gripped tight to keep him upright. His expression didn’t falter, didn’t give anything away. “How you doing?”

            “I wanna go to the court,” Kevin said. “Practice.”

            Jeremy nodded. “Sure, bud. Let’s go.” He gave Kevin a slight push out of the crowd, offered his friends goodbyes, and led Kevin out of the bar. Five feet down the hall there was a bench, which he pushed Kevin down into. “You okay?”

            Kevin looked up at him, large enough to block out the worst of the hotel’s fluorescents. “Yeah. I want to go play. Practice. Whatever.”

            “You’re wasted.”

            “Am not.” Kevin went to stand and Jeremy caught his shoulders, kept his weight from leaning too far forward. Kevin relaxed into the touch, almost let his head drop onto Jeremy’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

            Jeremy made a noise of assent, then tilted Kevin’s chin up to look him in the eyes. “Look, hey. We can practice some other night, okay? But I’m kinda tired, so how about we go back to your room for a bit?”

            Okay, so maybe Kevin was drunk. Or maybe Jeremy was actually hitting on him. Or maybe, just maybe, Kevin had failed to realize until that exact moment that staring mooningly at another guy from across the room was hella fucking gay. Possibly all three.

            “Jeremy,” Kevin said slowly, trying hard not to slur the word. “Are you coming on to me?”

            Jeremy’s smile faltered ever so slightly, a happy medium between a laugh at a joke and nothing offensive in case it wasn’t. And in that moment of limbo, where Jeremy struggled to stay like sunshine, Kevin’s heart skipped a beat, sunk. And because he’s Kevin fucking Day and not a rejected girl at the prom, he didn’t leave it at that. He dodged forward and tried to capture Jeremy’s lips in a kiss.

            He just hit his target, slipping slightly off the side, dimpling the edge of Jeremy’s jaw with kisses. Jeremy’s hand pressed to his chest, pushed him back. His smile had slipped from his face, but his eyes were still kind, so kind, so nice. “Hey,” he said.

            “No?” Kevin said.

            Jeremy’s face fell just a bit, like once again he wasn’t sure where the line was, what was nice and what wasn’t. It was amazing to be so close to him, to see how the muscles in his cheeks twitched around a smile, how his eyes turned down at the sides in sadness. There was something so careful about him, so delicate. It wasn’t hard to see him as the man that led the nicest league in the team, but as the guy who played the bloodthirsty sport of Exy? That was hard.

            “You’re drunk,” Jeremy said, finally settling on a neutral response.

            Kevin pushed against his hand, tried to get closer. Jeremy smelled vaguely of alcohol, more like caramel embers. “Tell me,” Kevin said. “Even if it’s mean, tell me.”

            “Kevin—”

            “Say something mean,” he snapped, a challenge. Maybe he just wanted to know if it was possible. He wanted to know if Jeremy, Captain Sunshine, biggest cinnamon roll in a world of sinnamon rolls, could actually tell a person no. And he was desperate to hear the word no, to have Jeremy stop his heart from beating so hard, just for a second. Because he wasn’t gay, he wasn’t fucking gay. “Tell me no.”

            “It’s not no,” Jeremy said, slow, calm. He stroked his fingers along Kevin’s chin, let just an inch of his signature smile slip into place. “But you’re not in a place to say yes.” He kissed Kevin once, light, his lips soft and papery. Then he stepped back and said, “Let’s get you to bed, okay? Sleep it off?”

            Kevin nodded, somewhat reluctantly. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset about the rejection or that he’d failed to push Jeremy to the point of saying something out of line. He leaned against Jeremy the whole way back to his room, vaguely answering questions about where they were headed, enjoying the silence. Jeremy ran his hand through his hair, down his spine, pulled him closer anytime he strayed too far away and lost his balance.

            Kevin opened the door to his room and stepped inside, looked back at Jeremy with a silent question. Jeremy licked his lips, nodded. He closed the door behind him, watched Kevin pull off his shoes and roll into bed fully clothed. Jeremy laughed. “You can’t sleep like that.”

            “Watch me,” Kevin mumbled, like it was a challenge too, like everything he said to Jeremy was a challenge. He looked at the other man out of one eye, focussed on him for a little too long before he said, “Join me?”

            “Kevin—”

            Kevin swore. “Just lie down, okay? I won’t do anything.”

            Jeremy hesitated a moment and then nodded. He took off his shoes and his belt and then climbed into the other side of the bed. Kevin closed his eyes, listened to the gentle rhythm of Jeremy’s breath until just the heat of his body, his closeness, lulled him to sleep.

 

Kevin woke to the door splintering. Someone was yelling. A couple people were yelling. He rolled up, immediately disoriented, his head spinning. He was in his room, the sun was up, everything was fine.

            _The sun was up._

The door opened (luckily not because it was knocked down) and Andrew stormed in. He threw Jeremy back against a wall in the process and Neil was now torn between apologizing to him and trying to hold his boyfriend back by the collar of his shirt.

            “I thought you were dead,” Andrew snapped. He kicked at the end of the bed, the closest he could get to Kevin without ripping Neil’s arm out of its socket. “You didn’t show up for practice and I thought you fucking died.”

            “Sorry,” Kevin snapped.

            “You get brain damage or something? How’d you not manage to get up in time?” Andrew said.

            Neil cleared his throat. Leave it to Neil to get the context of a situation in the one situation where the context was wrong. Andrew looked back at Neil who darted a glance between Jeremy and Kevin, then looked pointedly back at his boyfriend. Seriously. Neil was dumb as shit until him being smart actually made him dumber.

            Andrew cursed and then kicked the bottom of the bed again. “Next time you get laid, get to fucking practice on time. God knows the rest of us can do it.”

            Then Andrew and Neil were out of the room, leaving Jeremy and Kevin staring at each other blankly.

            “You okay?” Kevin said.

            Jeremy rolled his shoulder, testing. “Yeah. Kid hits hard. You sure you want him in goal?”

            Kevin snorted. “Put him anywhere else and he’ll kill someone.”

            Jeremy smiled and then stepped closer. “You remember last night?”

            Kevin met his eyes, the gentle blue, and swallowed hard. “No,” he lied.

            Slow, Jeremy nodded. “I’ll get out of your hair, then,” he said. “See you on the court, Kev.”

            “See ya.”


End file.
